


Blast

by aeslis



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Ass to Mouth, Barebacking, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Drugged Sex, F/M, Host club AU, M/M, Multi, but it's not really non-con, in case you hadn't noticed, it's not angsty at all, kind of, like Ohno is into it, really guys this is incredibly dirty, so never fear, there's a lot of enjoyment here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeslis/pseuds/aeslis
Summary: Ohno is the newest recruit at host club Club Storm, and that comes with certain responsibilities.Originally written as a gift fic for Elfiepike for JE FQFest 2012.





	Blast

She finds him walking through Shinjuku on a crowded summer day. Ohno isn't sure what makes him stand out from all the fashionable people, because he's only in an old, sideways cap with ratty shoes that he stares at as he walks. No one but his mother has complimented his looks in at least three years, but suddenly she's got his arm and says, "Have you ever wanted to work at a host club?"  
  
She's pretty. Her hair is honey and molasses and straighter than can be natural, and Ohno's eyes immediately go to her cleavage, since she has it pushed up on display. Her smile is confident, like she knows he's going to agree to whatever she wants. "What's your name, darling?" she asks him, before he can wrap his mind around the offer.  
  
"Ohno," he says automatically, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with the smell of her, floral and rich. "Ohno Satoshi."  
  
"Satoshi," she says, her mouth pursing seductively around the last syllable. She pulls a business card out of a rhinestone-encrusted card case, handing it to him with nails that glitter just as brightly, but in different colors. "I'm Kumi. You can call me Kumi-cho. Come tomorrow, Satoshi-kun, at five, and don't be late."  
  
Her fingers linger on his arm before she walks away, her steps neat and precise in her platform wedges, her hips sashaying in a way that draws his eyes and won't let go.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
The card says  _Club Storm_  in embossed English script, and is decorated with glossy black butterflies. It leads him deep into Kabuki-cho, to a building ensconced between a karaoke bar and a Chinese fast-food restaurant with red paper lanterns. Like every other club, it has portraits of its top ranking hosts, and Ohno glances at them as he stands awkwardly outside. They all have gravity-defying hairstyles and enchanting, if slightly sleazy smiles, and Ohno isn't sure he'd be able to tell them apart, except for the highest-ranking host with the largest picture that's posted above the rest. He has artistic cheekbones and an intense gaze that Ohno is sure he would never be able to emulate.  
  
Ohno doesn't even know what he's doing here. He doesn't mind his convenience store job, really. It doesn't pay much, but his mother never harps on him to make more of himself, and wrapping up bentos is satisfying enough. He's good at it, he knows what to do, and his manager doesn't mind that he's kind of absent-minded as long as he keeps the shelves organized.  
  
"Satoshi-kun." Ohno blinks away from his thoughts. Kumi-cho is standing in the door. She's in a close-fitting mini-skirt that shows off her shapely thighs, and her lips tilt smugly. "I knew you'd come, darling. Hurry now, inside." She turns around without looking back, and this time Ohno can't help but follow, like she's the Pied Piper and he's caught in her snare.  
  
The inside is lavish and comfortable, with low, hidden lights that line drapery-covered walls. The tables only come up to the knee, and are surrounded by couches of rich, burgundy velvet. It looks like a place for sinful things to happen. Sitting around one of the tables are several attractive men—Ohno thinks they must be the ones from the photos outside, but it's hard to tell, because there's no hairspray involved and they're in street clothes. They've all turned to look at him, and Ohno feels like a lamb that's walked into a den of wolves.  
  
Kumi-cho sits down on a divan and crosses her legs. Her skirt rides up too high to be appropriate, but she doesn't seem to care. "There, darling," she says sweetly, gesturing to a seat next to one of the hosts that Ohno slides into as bidden, and when Ohno looks at him, he recognizes the cheekbones and pouty lips. It's the man from the picture, the number one of the club.  
  
Ohno doesn't really listen when Kumi-cho starts talking about important club things, like the upcoming specials and the conduct of the members. He doesn't feel like he belongs in the conversation, so instead he thinks about Kumi-cho's legs, how he can almost see her panties, and how he can smell her, even from several meters away.  
  
"—new member Ohno Satoshi-kun."  
  
Ohno jerks his head up from the middle of his fantasy. He's half hard, and Kumi-cho is smiling at him as if she'd planned it this way. "Won't you come stand by me and give us all a self-introduction, Satoshi-kun?"  
  
Ohno doesn't know how to refuse, and wouldn't even if he could. He stands, moving to Kumi-cho's side, and wonders if anyone will notice the small bump beneath his zipper. The thought makes his heart race faster and his tongue tie up.   
  
"I'm Ohno," he says. His brow furrows as he tries to remember how these things typically go. "Um, I like… fishing."   
  
He pauses, and no one says anything. One of the men is looking directly at his pants, a knowing smile quirking his lips. Ohno feels his dick twitch. He scrambles around for something else to say. "I'm thirty one."  
  
The other hosts stare at him with varying degrees of interest. Number One, as Ohno now thinks of him, is guarded and reserved, glancing away when Ohno meets his eyes, but the others stare so that Ohno feel indecent, even with all his clothes on.   
  
The weighty silence is broken by a cheerful, "Hello! Welcome to Club Storm!" One of the hosts waves to him with both hands, his face cherubic and smile far too sweetly honest for a host club.  
  
"That's Aiba-chan," Kumi-cho tells Ohno, gesturing fluidly to indicate him, her smile affectionate. "He was the kohai before you. He'll have many things to teach you in the upcoming days. Go with him today, and when you're done, come see me in my office."  
  
Ohno turns to Aiba and bows. All the eyes in the club are on him, and he feels each and every one. "Please take care of me."  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
Aiba shows him around with great enthusiasm, even though there isn't much to show. Ohno has already seen the floor and the entryway, but Aiba points out things of interest using names that Ohno doesn't know, like MatsuJun's favorite chair and a stain on the floor from when Sho had gotten overly enthusiastic and dumped a bottle of fine champagne over Shun's head.  
  
They go to the break room next, which is nothing like the break room at Ohno's convenience store job. He's used to a tiny room full of boxes and paperwork and a hard, plastic chair. This room is carpeted, with ottomans, a sturdy wooden table, and several vanities which are now occupied by the hosts getting ready for the evening, chatting and laughing, running their fingers through their hair and setting it with noxiously smelling spray. Number One is there, glowering at himself in one of the mirrors and ignoring everybody else as he plucks his eyebrows.  
  
Aiba whispers names to him. Number One is MatsuJun, and Ohno recognizes Nino as the guy that had been leering at his crotch earlier. There's a Sho, a Shun, and a Toma, and Ohno already knows he's going to get them mixed up because he's never been good with names.  
  
Then Aiba hauls Ohno over to the lockers. "This one was Ohkura's, before he got lucky with his modeling gigs. Now it's yours!" Aiba says, spinning one of the locks and tugging it open. Inside are several condoms and twenty yen. Aiba plucks up the condoms and grins. "Whoa, lucky! You can have the yen."  
  
Ohno takes the coins obediently and puts them in his pocket. Aiba shows him how to reassign the lock, though it takes a few tries because Aiba doesn't remember the right steps. Next, they walk through another door into a wardrobe room that's larger than Ohno's room at home. There are rows and rows and  _rows_  of clothes, more clothes than Ohno has ever thought about, and definitely more than he could ever care about.  
  
"You can put your work clothes here," Aiba says, gesturing to an empty rack. "What did you bring?"  
  
Ohno stands dumbly. Kumi-cho had never told him anything about clothes. "Nothing."  
  
Aiba freezes, his smile turning from daylight to distress. This is apparently an unexpected development. "Nothing? Just what you're wearing?"  
  
What Ohno is wearing is a pair of black denim jeans with a fist-sized hole in the knee and a t-shirt that advertises the summer festival near his house. He doesn't remember the last time he washed either of them. "Nobody told me to bring anything," he mutters defensively. He doesn't like feeling guilty, because it's not like it's  _his_  fault, but he likes Aiba and doesn't want to get him in trouble.  
  
Aiba panics a little, but at his suggestion that Ohno might have something at home someone could bring him, Ohno assures him that all he has is more of the same, all random t-shirts that are souvenirs from vacations and restaurants.  
  
"Just put him in my clothes for today," comes a voice. It's Nino. He walks in, all nonchalant, and gathers up several hangers' worth of shirts and pants, handing them to Aiba. "If he spills anything on them, he's paying. And you'd better take him shopping, Aiba-chan." Aiba practically melts with relief, and Ohno feels bad all over again.  
  
Ohno fits nearly perfectly into his clothes. He ends up in a v-neck shirt with a pin-striped vest and jeans that are overly snug on his balls. Nino loans him a belt, too, that's studded and has a glittery guitar buckle Ohno can't figure out how to fasten.   
  
Nino helps. He steps in close, too close, till their foreheads almost touch, and tugs unnecessarily firmly on the belt, jerking Ohno's hips forward. Ohno watches his hands move cleverly over the buckle and the catch, but he can't figure out how it's done. He hopes he doesn't have to pee at some point, because he's not even sure he'll be able to get the belt off.   
  
"There," Nino says with a tiny, dangerous grin. He reaches around and grabs Ohno's ass, pulling their hips together. "Now you're as sexy as me."  
  
Ohno is breathless. Nino is so close that all Ohno can see is the dark of his pupils. Nino's fingers curve, squeezing through fabric into flesh, and Ohno feels his dick respond in the non-space between them. Nino has to feel it too.  
  
Then Nino is gone, sauntering away with a careless wave over his shoulder and a smirk that burns its way into Ohno's brain. "See ya, Ohchan."  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
His first night out on the floor is informative. Aiba teaches him to keep a lighter on him at all times for the girls with cigarettes and shows him where to get the drinks, because, being the lowest-ranked member of the club, Ohno is forever fetching drinks. He hasn't even heard of half of them, and usually between leaving the table and coming back again, he's forgotten which drink is what and who it goes to, but Aiba covers up all his mishaps with a beautiful white smile and well-timed comments.  
  
Aiba is charismatic, like a brightly shining star, and to Ohno it seems like Aiba must have been in this job forever, not the four months he claims. His smile is effortless, and the girls he entertains laugh just as brightly as he does. Ohno finds himself smiling, too. He can't help it. It's like Aiba creates his own solar system, and everything around moves into his orbit.  
  
Halfway through the night Nino appears at their table and leans over to whisper in Aiba's ear. Aiba nods, standing up, and makes his apologies to the girls, who pout prettily and make him promise to come back. He waves for Ohno to follow, and when Ohno looks over his shoulder, Nino has taken Aiba's spot and has gotten very close into one girl's personal space to nuzzle at her cheek. It looks like they're on a private date. Ohno isn't prepared for the flutter of jealousy it causes.  
  
"Queenie!" Aiba says, effectively distracting Ohno into a different type of confusion.  
  
He is utterly caught off guard by the girl Aiba sits down next to. She looks like a gothic lingerie store threw up on her. She's strapped in all over with PVC, from the knee-high boots to the skimpy corset top that forces her breasts up. Ohno can definitely see her navel.  
  
Queenie—it's a weird name, but who is Ohno to judge—licks her lips in lascivious delight. "I've been thinking about you all day," she says, and her body rolls to claim Aiba's personal space in a way that reminds Ohno immediately of Nino. She drags her fingers down Aiba's chest so that the buttons of his dress shirt catch under her striped nails.  
  
"You don't know how happy I am to hear that, because I've been waiting for you," Aiba says. He's changed. Ohno sees it immediately, and it fascinates him. Instead of the golden boy image of before, Aiba looks at Queenie with visible eroticism. His hand falls high on her exposed thigh, and she shifts her legs open encouragingly. Their gazes are locked so tightly Ohno feels like a voyeur.  
  
He doesn't mind at all.  
  
Ohno fetches her several drinks over the next hour—always a Stripy Body, on the rocks—and sits with them, watching and learning. It's like watching foreplay. Queenie gets Aiba's shirt open to the fourth button, and Aiba's hand creeps higher up her leg every few minutes. At one point Queenie reaches inside Aiba's shirt, and at another, Aiba tugs at her boned corset to peer down her cleavage. There is a  _lot_  of giggling going on, mostly on Aiba's end, and Queenie smiles indulgently at him and strokes his hair.  
  
Ohno thinks that if this is what it is to be a host, maybe he wants to learn how after all.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
Ohno's mind is still full of Aiba and Queenie when his shift ends. He's been turned on for the last hour, and changes back into his own clothes with relief, because Nino's pants had been far too tight to deal with it.  
  
After pulling on his pants and tying his shoes, he goes to see Kumi-cho in her office. The hallway that leads up to it is lit with small, globe-shaped ice lights that hang from the ceiling, and the walls are paneled with cherrywood. There are voices behind the door at the end of the hall, but when he knocks, they go quiet. "Come in."  
  
The doorknob is a twisty, antique affair that Ohno can appreciate for its artistic merit. It turns easily, and the door swings inward on oiled hinges.  
  
Kumi-cho is sitting behind her desk. Despite the fact that it's three in the morning and Ohno, who has used his brain more tonight than he can remember doing in the past few months, is well past tired, she still looks fresh and chipper, everything in place.  
  
There's someone else in the room, on a floral couch against the wall. It's a man, and he's so pretty Ohno is sure he must be someone famous, someone he would know if only he watched television or read magazines. He looks like he was carved from marble and then put on a leather jacket and stylish combat boots. He's taken over the couch, his whole body splayed indolently, as if he had been liquid in a past life.  
  
"Meet my husband," Kumi says with that same, florid gesture from before. "Gackt, honey, this is our newest recruit, Satoshi-kun."  
  
"Charmed," Gackt says in a voice that is perfectly suited to pornos. He lifts only two fingers in greeting, and Ohno should be insulted, but he's so impressed by Gackt's presence that he barely notices.  
  
"Gacchan stops by every so often to help me out," Kumi-cho explains, curling her fingers beneath her chin. "Except to see a great deal of him."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Ohno says, remembering his manners and bowing the way his mother taught him.  
  
"Now, to business." Kumi-cho straightens a few papers on her desk and sets them aside. "How was your first night on the floor? I trust Aiba-chan took good care of you?"  
  
Ohno thinks about the way Aiba had showed him how to do his hair, how he'd covered Ohno's awkward, first-day blunders, the way he'd given Ohno openings to join the conversation, and how he'd smiled every time Ohno had actually opened his mouth. Back when he'd first started at the convenience store, his senpai had always been quick to remind him of his place, ready to chastise him for every mistake, as if moving up in the ranks made them more impressive and perfect and they wanted Ohno to remember that.   
  
"He was very kind," Ohno assures her.  
  
"I heard that Zebra-chan came in, yes? She's always asked for Aiba-chan. She's one of his most frequent regulars."  
  
She must be talking about Queenie, Ohno thinks. He nods.  
  
"Did you enjoy yourself? Do you think you'd like to continue?" Kumi-cho leans forward in her chair, putting her elbows on the desk in a way that frames her lovely cleavage. Ohno feels odd staring when her husband is in the room, and tries to keep his eyes on her face. She's got that smile on again, the one that makes Ohno feel like she's going to ask him to do something, and he's going to say yes.  
  
"It was interesting," Ohno says, because it was. Sitting with girls, being with Kumi-cho, being with Aiba and Nino and feeling the spikes of arousal in his gut all the time is much more interesting than ringing up candy and restocking bottles of tea. "I'm just not sure I'm very good at it."  
  
"You'll be lovely darling, I can tell. What do you think, Gacchan?" She turns to look at her husband, and the dim lighting catches on the honey highlights of her hair.  
  
Gackt nods with regal approval, smiling as if they're sharing a secret. "You always find the best."  
  
How Gackt knows is beyond Ohno. He'd never come out to the floor, so there was no way he'd seen Ohno in action.  
  
"I'm afraid to say that your duty isn't over for the night, not yet," Kumi-cho says. "As the newest member of the club, it's your responsibility to see to the comforts of the others."  
  
Ohno nods. He'd been hoping to get home, but he's been the lowest on the ladder before, so this isn't really a surprise.  
  
"We'll start with me." Kumi-cho gets up from her chair. Her dress is skin-tight, and shows off her figure to perfection. Ohno forgets that he's not supposed to look. She moves around to the front of her desk and leans against the edge, folding her arms over her chest. "Take off your clothes."  
  
Ohno pauses. He's not sure he heard right. He looks down at himself, at his old sneakers with the holes in the toe, at his ripped jeans. Then he looks back at Kumi-cho, a question in his eyes.  
  
"Yes, darling," she says. "Right now, right here, your clothes. Take them off."  
  
Ohno's balls tighten at the assured tone, the way it comes out as a command. He glances over at Gackt, feeling a little wild, like this must be a middle-of-the-night delusion, but Gackt only nods, once, a little smile playing about his lips. Ohno feels his cheeks go hot. But if they both want him to, there's no reason to refuse, is there?  
  
He starts with his shirt, pulling it over his head, elbowing at the stretchy fabric as it slides up and off. Kumi-cho takes it from him and folds it neatly as he toes off his shoes and works on his pants. His buckle is much easier to undo than Nino's. He shunts them down his legs, stepping out, and though he would normally leave them on the floor, he doesn't want to make Kumi-cho bend down to get them, so he picks them up and hands them to her. She folds them too, stacking them atop his shirt. Socks and pants follow, and Ohno stands openly naked in the middle of the room.  
  
He's fantasized about things like this, but never thought they would happen. His cock is hardening, arousal threading through his tummy. He makes no move to hide the obvious, because he knows they want to see. Kumi-cho and Gackt look at him appreciatively, and Kumi-cho steps forward, tapping her finger against the already wet head of his penis. "See? I just knew you'd be perfect for this job," she coos.  
  
Ohno ducks his head, but stands in place.  
  
"Now, let's put you to the test, shall we, darling?" Kumi-cho backs up again and hikes her skirt up to show off a pair of lacy pink panties. She sits on the edge of the desk, scooting backwards and opening her legs wide so Ohno can see, and then crooks her finger at him. "Do your best, hm? Make me a very, very happy girl. On your knees, now."  
  
Ohno has never been more turned on. He lowers to his knees before he gets to the desk, walking forward that way until he can press his cheek against the supple skin of her thigh. When he'd first seen her, he knew he'd wanted to do exactly this, but how could he have prepared himself for the reality of it? She smells amazing, the musky scent of her sex mixing with the exhilarating floral perfume he's starting to equate with her presence. He presses his nose against the lacy fabric of her panties, inhaling deeply.  
  
"See?" he hears Kumi-cho say above him. "He's not shy at all."  
  
"It seems not," Gackt says, his voice rich with unvoiced laughter.  
  
Ohno wonders if he should be more shy, if someone else would be, in his place. Probably. But Kumi-cho wants him to, and he wants to, and Gackt doesn't mind, and he's in enough heaven to forget about being shy.  
  
He licks and licks at her panties, trying to learn the taste of her through the scratchy fabric against his tongue. He pokes, searching for her hole, trying to push his tongue inside her even though her panties don't let him get very far. She laughs, huskier than before, and runs her nails through his hair, against his scalp. It makes him shiver.  
  
With his teeth, he pulls the fabric aside. It takes a few tries, but Kumi-cho encourages him with whispered words, her hands embracing the back of his head and keeping him close. Beneath the pink lace she's neatly shaven, her curls cropped into a heart shape. Ohno takes a moment to appreciate that, nuzzling against them so they tickle his nose, before he dives in.  
  
She's warm, so warm, already juicy with her desire. He gets an undiluted taste and thrills at it. His cock is desperate and hard now, forking up from his body imploringly, but he ignores it in favor of snaking his tongue inside her. Kumi-cho moans, and her fingers tighten in his hair, hard. "Yes, darling," she says, shaky, and Ohno feels crazy over the fact that he's made her that way. "Just like that."  
  
He doesn't want to go too fast. He laps worshipfully between the swollen lips of her labia, feeling the heat of her blood beneath her skin, and soothes his way up to her clit until he feels the faint jerk of muscle along her thigh.  
  
The carpet is soft, but not as soft as a mattress, and Ohno's knees are starting to hurt, right under the kneecap. He'll probably have red imprints to show where he was kneeling when he finally moves, but for now he shifts his weight, trying to ease the pressure without moving from between the crux of her thighs.  
  
He hears the clink of chains and a rustle of fabric and knows that Gackt has moved, so he's not too surprised when he feels hands on his hips. "Up," Gackt says in that dripping-honey voice, and Ohno sucks in a disappointed breath. Kumi-cho hasn't even come.  
  
"Not like that," Kumi-cho corrects as he tries to straighten. She holds Ohno's head firmly in place, his mouth against her, as Gackt lifts Ohno's hips from the floor until he's bent at a perpendicular angle. "Don't stop," she croons at him, her nails carding through his hair, so he doesn't.  
  
He doesn't stop even when he feels Gackt's slippery wet fingers at his hole. He moans into Kumi-cho's heat, his tongue pressed deep inside her, Gackt's fingers forcing their way into him. In and out, one finger before two and a strange, extra lump on the second that opens him even wider. Gackt must be wearing rings.  
  
Ohno is only more aroused by Gackt stretching him. He knows what comes next. He pants fitfully as he fucks Kumi-cho with his tongue, but his mind is in two places at once, and his rhythm falls apart.  
  
"Slowly now," Gackt says, and guides Ohno's hips down. For a moment, Ohno feels nothing, just empty air, and then Gackt's cock nudges at his hole. Ohno's muscles yawn wide, and gravity pulls him down, Gackt's dick burning deeper and deeper until he's sitting squarely in Gackt's lap, the zipper of Gackt's pants pressing against his skin, Kumi's thighs still around his ears.  
  
He expects Gackt to fuck him then, but nothing happens. Gackt is under Ohno, unmoving, sitting in what must be Kumi-cho's office chair. Ohno shifts, unsure if he's the one that's supposed to be moving, until Gackt strokes a hand down his spine. "Keep going," Gackt tells him. "I just wanted to put my magnum somewhere while I watch."  
  
"Gacchan always prefers to have his sword sheathed somewhere warm," Kumi-cho tells him. "But needless to say, I'm unavailable at the moment." Her cheeks are tinted pink, and not from her makeup. She gazes down at Ohno with more affection than he'd ever hoped to see from her, and strokes a thumb over his cheek, her nail scratching just under his eye. "Now, darling, I think it's time for you to get serious." She pulls her knees up, putting her legs over Ohno's shoulders to cross her ankles behind his neck.  
  
Ohno does. He tongues furiously against her clit, and she arches against the table like she's been struck by lightning. She yanks at his hair and moans in a way that makes her chest heave. As she writhes, Gackt sits beneath Ohno, his dick a rock pushed firmly up Ohno's ass. He might as well be statue if it weren't for the caress of his hands against Ohno's hips to keep him in place. Ohno wants to touch himself, he's so turned on.  
  
He can feel it when Kumi-cho gets close. Her whole body tenses, frozen all the way down to her breath, her hands cruel in his hair. She's loud, chanting  _Oh yes, oh yes, MORE,_  and then she softens again as it recedes, tightens when it comes back, softens again. Ohno's tongue is tired, his mouth is full of her taste, and her scratchy curls tickle frightfully at his nose. She grinds up, her legs locked fiercely around his neck, and for a second Ohno can't breathe.  
  
Then she explodes in a jumble of jerking limbs. Her heels assault his back, pinning him to her as she convulses and wails in throaty bliss. Ohno feels the subtleties against his mouth, his cheeks, and he doesn't fight her vicious grip. When she finally subsides, finally lets him go, his whole face glistens.  
  
Ohno sits up, hyper-aware of his own erection, of Gackt's cock up inside him. Kumi-cho, still breathing hard, is draped against her desk. "My," she says dreamily, "but you have a wonderful way with your tongue."  
  
"I'll have to test that, sometime," Gackt says. While Kumi-cho sounds like she's run a marathon, Gackt sounds like he's just come back from a leisurely walk.  
  
Kumi-cho picks herself up and runs her fingers through her hair. She hits a snag, and delicately untangles it from where it's wrapped around one of her earrings. Her skirt is still rucked up to her hips. "I'm so very glad I found you, darling. Now I'm one step closer to making my dream come true." She looks over Ohno's shoulder. "Your turn, honey."  
  
"I've been waiting," Gackt says, not impatiently.  
  
Kumi-cho moves out of the way, replacing her panties and her skirt in the process, and Ohno finds a supporting arm around his waist as Gackt stands up. He's hard as hell now, ready to be pounded into, ready to  _come_  already, and he scrabbles at the desk to brace himself as Gackt leans him over it.  
  
But Gackt starts off slow. He rocks into Ohno, letting Ohno feel the whole length of him, and Ohno whines. The desk is cool against his cheek, and the edge of it digs into his ribs. Gackt's fingers are iron on his waist, and don't let him move at all, not even to sway back into Gackt's forward thrusts.  
  
It's terrible and wonderful. Gackt's speed is unchanging, a slow, steady drum beat that carries him most of the way into Ohno's body, and then back. Ohno clenches around him, desperate for more, but it's useless.  
  
"You're teasing the poor boy terribly," Kumi-cho says. Ohno tries to focus on her where she sits on the flower-print couch, but she's a fuzzy, if beautiful, spot of color. "Gacchan can go for hours, Satoshi-kun. I think he's testing you."  
  
_Hours._  Ohno can't last for hours. He isn't even sure he can last the next minute. He reaches between his legs, his fingers determined, but Gackt catches him first. He must be a superhero, because his strength is inhuman. Ohno doesn't try to fight, just mews pitifully as Gackt keeps fucking him, regular as a piston in an engine.  
  
"Don't worry, Satoshi-kun. I'm just having a little fun." Ohno isn't even capable of forming words right now, but Gackt sounds utterly composed, like he's making small talk instead of fucking. "The sex marathon can be another time. I don't expect you to be able to handle it on the first night, after all."  
  
Ohno squeezes his eyes shut and pants, thinking of Gackt holding him down hour after hour, gliding into him with these same smooth strokes, maybe on a bed, maybe on a couch, maybe on the floor. He would be broken by the end, and the idea makes him thrill, his balls tightening as they swing between his legs. He's ready to come and he hasn't even been touched.  
  
Gackt stops, and then suddenly he's gone, his cock bumping against Ohno's ass as he pulls out. Ohno is so bewildered at the sudden emptiness that he doesn't move.  
  
"There now," Kumi-cho says. She's by his side, and helps Ohno stand up. Behind her Gackt leans coolly against the desk, his dick still out of his pants and a self-satisfied expression on his face. "You did wonderfully. But now that we've broken you in a bit, it's time to go back to the break room." She pets at his face as if he were a puppy, her fingers dragging over his ears, but it's not where he wants to be touched. He feels like a deflated balloon, a little lost and a lot perplexed. "Take care of anyone who wants your attention, all right, darling? I'm sure you'll do splendidly."  
  
And with that she kicks him out, naked, into the hall, closing the door behind him.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
The first thing Ohno does in the break room is jerk himself off. He shoots his load into a paper cup from the water cooler and puts it in the trash, hoping it doesn't make the room smell too much. Then he sits on one of the fancy couches and waits.  
  
It's warm, enough so that it doesn't bother him that he's not wearing clothes. Ohno looks at the clock, a fancy analog one with roman numerals and curlicue hands, which tells him that it's nearing four o'clock.   
  
For a while, no one comes, and Ohno starts to get sleepy. He tucks himself into the corner of the couch and thinks about the fishing trip he'd planned for tomorrow, how he probably won't be going. It's a good thing he told his mother he was spending the night out, because he's certain now he won't get home before dawn. He can hear the murmur of club patrons through the wall, but it seems like another world compared to the stillness of the room he's in. When the door opens, words and laughter spill in, only to be cut off abruptly when it closes again.  
  
It's Number One. He glances at Ohno, but nothing more—he walks right to the water cooler and turns his back. Ohno's heart thump thumps in his chest, hopeful, because he wants Number One to look at him, to glower at him and push him into the couch, but he doesn't know what to say, so he lets the silence be silence, broken only by the sound of water filling Number One's cup. Number One chugs it like he's in a commercial for some new beverage, his head back and Adam's apple bobbing before he crushes the cup in one hand and flings it into the trash. Then he's gone out the door again, laughter and bawdy singing swallowing him up. Ohno deflates, and starts to pick at his nose for a while.  
  
He's still ensconced in the couch fifteen minutes later, most of the way asleep, when the door opens and wakes him up with more noise. This time it's not Number One. Ohno blinks fuzzily, trying to remember the names Aiba had given him, and he thinks it's Shun and Toma but has no idea which is which. One of them has a hawk nose and the other has a wide jaw, and both of them are leering down at him. Ohno feels a flash of heat, and knows that this time he won't get ignored.  
  
They're not gentle, and not patient, either. They push their dicks into Ohno's mouth at the same time until he his jaw hurts and he drools until they come, one after the other, filling his mouth with salt and bitterness. Ohno does his best to swallow, but two cocks makes it awkward, and some slimes down his chin instead.  
  
"Here," says the hawk-nosed one, handing him a damp cloth. They're both a good deal more friendly now, without the hungry edge to their eyes, but they don't stay. They're both meeting clients, which the wide-jawed one—Shun, Ohno knows now—explains is code for going to love hotels. Neither of them get Ohno off before they leave.  
  
Ohno looks down at his neglected dick, and gives it a good squeeze of commiseration. He wonders if it's his lot now to be used but never satisfied, a toy for the enjoyment of others. The idea doesn't upset him as much as it probably should.   
  
He's in the middle of tugging at his balls when Sho storms through the door, looking ruffled and wild-eyed. He stops abruptly at the sight of Ohno, and Ohno figures he must be a sight, hands on himself and hair an electric mess. He can't be entirely sure he's wiped all the come off his face.   
  
Ohno doesn't have enough time to even say hello. Not that he would, because he's chronically bad at remembering to talk, but the point is moot when Sho barrels into him with the force of a hurricane wind. Sho's hands are claws on his shoulders, digging into Ohno's skin, and his mouth is hard and full of teeth when he kisses Ohno. Ohno opens his mouth, giving in to Sho's momentum without a second thought.  
  
"Lie down," Sho says, and he sounds more animal than human. Ohno doesn't move fast enough for him, and Sho shunts him down into the couch. Ohno's heart jolts up into his throat, and then he can't see anything but Sho.  
  
Sho straddles his chest, the fabric of his pants pulling taut over his thighs. He's wearing a tie that dangles distractingly in Ohno's face as Sho fights with his buttons and zips to pull out his cock. It's a strange time to think that Sho is beautiful, but Ohno does: his lips are full and swollen, and his shoulders are broad, strong under his suit jacket. Ohno opens his mouth willingly, and Sho fills his mouth in one smooth motion.  
  
The intensity of Sho's gaze burns more than his cock down Ohno's throat. He goes deeper, not waiting to see if Ohno handle it, deep enough that his balls bump Ohno's chin. Ohno holds his breath until his vision starts going spotty with black, and then he drags in a heavy, imperfect breath through his nose. It's all he can do to hold on. Sho pumps into him with rough dominance, and Ohno takes it and takes it until Sho pulls out and splatters come all over his face.  
  
In the aftermath, Ohno breathes. He feels like someone tied his stomach into a triple knot, his cock aches for attention, and there's come oozing down the side of his face towards his ear, but all he cares about right now is breathing. Moving is for later.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Sho leans into his vision, but it's not the same Sho. The demonic edge has tempered down to a concern that Ohno doesn't think is necessary. He feels fine, if still madly horny.  
  
Either Sho picks up on this or he's just a nice guy when he's not crazy with lust, because he jerks Ohno off. It's not the best Ohno's had, and Sho isn't trying to make it good, but it's better than Ohno's own hand and it doesn't take him long to shudder and leak come through Sho's fingers.  
  
He tries to apologize, but Sho just shushes him and kisses his forehead, telling him it's fine.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
Ohno quits his job at the convenience store the next day.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
His second shift at the club means sitting with Nino, which is nothing like being with Aiba. Where Aiba had been sugar and light, Nino is spice and mischief. He has clever fingers and does card tricks that Ohno knows he isn't supposed to find as magical as he does, but he oohs and aahs, impressed every time Nino holds up the right card. Nino will wink, like it was a trick just for Ohno's amusement instead of the girl whose lap he's practically sitting in, and then he'll go back to ignoring Ohno completely, leaving Ohno to flounder through awkward small talk with the girl he's supposed to be entertaining.  
  
But Ohno finds it hard to concentrate on what he's supposed to be doing with Nino around. Nino's voice is high, cheerful in its deviousness, and he's constantly asking his patrons about their sex lives. "How many times have you done it in a night?" he asks, pouring more champagne.  
  
The three girls that are sitting with them giggle demurely. They're all dressed in purple, like they're a set, and they sit with straight backs and closed legs. They look like the kind to blush, but none of them do. "I've gone three times," says one of them, her voice whispery cute. "What about you, Nocchi?"  
  
Nocchi is the least girly of the bunch, and she doesn't cover her mouth when she laughs. "You're so daring! I think only twice, for me."  
  
"What about you, Nino?"  
  
"Yes, what about Nino?"  
  
All three swivel to look at him. Ohno is somehow reminded of tiny birds.  
  
"It's a number not fit for polite company," Nino says with a shit-eating grin, waggling his eyebrows in a way that invites anyone and everyone to pry.  
  
The girls flutter with delight. Nino gets them drunker and drunker, filling their glasses when they're not paying attention, which is a neat trick, because it seems to Ohno that they're always paying attention to him.  
  
"What about Satoshi?"  
  
Nino's voice pierces through Ohno's thoughts, and he realizes he's zoned out again. All eyes are on him, and the girls are all looking tilty and ravishable, rosy in the cheeks. Aachan, the one on his right, tips clumsily against his side with pouty happiness. "Your favorite position," she hiccups, cuddling up to his arm. "Let's see, would it be, ummm, with the girl on top? Riding you all sloowww, and sexy?" Her hands move to emphasize the  _slow_ , and it looks kind of like a wriggling sperm.  
  
This is the kind of conversation that Ohno can get into. "I like watching a girl's breasts bounce as she fucks herself on me," he tells Aachan, and behind her, Kashiyuka presses all her fingers to her mouth in scandalized delight. Nino, sitting at her side, is playing with the collar of her dress, and Ohno thinks he catches sight of a dark bra strap.  
  
"Does that mean you like the big ones?" Nocchi says, leaning across the table with interest. "What about small, perky boobs?" She cups her chest to show the kinds she means.  
  
"More than a handful goes to waste," Nino says sagely, and then demonstrates, grabbing at all the breasts he can while the girls tumble over each other like giggling bowling pins.  
  
Ohno finds his drink full again the next time he looks, thanks to Nino's devious sleight of hand. This, he thinks to himself, is the best job ever. He chugs the whole glass of champagne, not even pausing to appreciate the bubbles.  
  
Things start to blur as the clock passes midnight. Ohno can't keep sentences straight from beginning to end, but no one seems to mind. Nino's grin burns itself into his brain, growing from table to table. He feels hot under his skin, and every touch sets off a little fire inside him.   
  
"Let me help you," says a voice by his ear that he knows is Nino.  
  
Ohno can't control his feet anymore, and he bumps into absolutely everything on the way back to the break room, even with Nino under his shoulder. Nino's fingers dig into his ribs, and Ohno tries to push them down, because the heat inside him is compressed like a small star, searing him from the inside out. He needs Nino to touch him, needs to be touched by anyone, any way, right now.  
  
"Time to do the naked dance," Nino sing-songs as he dumps Ohno unceremoniously onto an ottoman. Or at least, Ohno thinks that's what he says, but he can't focus on much of anything, and his clothes are off before he's even sure how it happens.  
  
Ohno's impatience makes him grab for Nino, and as he pulls Nino down, he hears himself ask, "Whad you puttin my dr'nk?" His mouth is full of sheep.  
  
Nino laughs, dizzyingly close. "Something wonderful," he says, and then his mouth is on Ohno and Ohno stops thinking altogether. Nino breathes into Ohno's neck and plays with his nipples, and each twist is a shock that makes Ohno buck and whine. He kicks when Nino uses his teeth instead, sharp and severe, and he begs, over and over, because even this is not enough. His blood feels like it's turned to lava.  
  
"Insatiable, aren't you?" Nino says, and Ohno wants to say  _Only because you made me this way,_  but he's too busy gasping. He's never been this hard in his life, and it hurts in wonderful ways.  
  
Nino turns him over, and Ohno thrusts his ass up in the air, pressing his face into the ottoman's cloud-soft cushions. He feels the probe of Nino's finger at his hole and the cold drip of lube which does nothing to alleviate the burn under his skin, and, without any stretching at all, Nino takes him.  
  
Ohno feels like singing. Nino's cock opens him up, fitting inside him like Ohno was made just for this. He pushes back eagerly until his ass thumps against Nino's pelvis and is rewarded with a strangled sound from Nino. "More," Ohno moans.  
  
"Well, when you ask so nicely," Nino says, and thrusts.  
  
Ohno clings to the ottoman for dear life, his mouth open and his eyes glazed as Nino fucks him with deliciously long strokes in perfect, unfaltering rhythm. He doesn't even notice when someone else joins them, not until Nino stops and the stars stop revolving in front of his eyes.  
  
"—going to share?" It's Sho.  
  
"Did you want the front end?" Nino asks in what seems like a very generous offer, given the fact that it's Nino.  
  
There's a pause, and Sho's face swims into Ohno's vision. He runs his finger along Ohno's slack lower lip, and then disappears again. Ohno moans, trying to fill himself with Nino's cock again, because Nino stopped on an out stroke.  
  
"I'm joining you," Sho says.  
  
"Dirty," Nino says, and Ohno feels the angle of him shift. "Careful, he's tight, and the dazzle can only relax him so much."  
  
"It's not like I haven't done this before," Sho says, and Ohno hears the distinctive sound of a zipper. He shudders.  
  
A finger pushes in alongside Nino's cock, and then Sho's cock is there instead, creeping into him, pushing him open wider than he's ever been, wider than his body should be able to handle, but Ohno doesn't wait to get used to it, he shoves back, impaling himself.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Nino says, and whatever Sho spits out is unintelligible.  
  
_Fuck_  is what Ohno wants to say. He feels like he's going to break, but he still wants more, and they give it to him, Nino moving first, pushing as deep as he can. They try to trade off, Sho pushing in on Nino's out, but Nino goes too far and pops out. He curses, but Ohno doesn't mind, because it means Nino has to force his way back in.  
  
Ohno is a quivering mess by the time Sho shouts and comes. He doesn't pull out, though, just stays buried in to the hilt while Nino fucks him hard. Ohno reaches between his legs, searching blindly for his bouncing cock, and he comes as soon as he touches it in a thick burst that creams the top of the ottoman. His convulsions close his ass tight around Sho's and Nino's dicks and Nino speeds up until he finally comes, jerking a few more times into Ohno's body before he subsides.  
  
They pull out at the same time, and Ohno feels fingers at his hole. "It's not closing," Sho says.  
  
"It will," Nino assures him, "eventually."  
  
Ohno tries to clench, but he's too sore. They're still playing with his open ass, and when Ohno feels gooey wetness seep out, he realizes neither of them used a condom.   
  
He keeps his ass up and closes his eyes, letting them touch wherever they like.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
Seeing Sho entertain girls is a lot different than being fucked by him. There's none of the firepower. Instead, Sho is a fairytale prince with a gleaming white smile that sits regally on his couch. He flatters, but he doesn't have Nino's perverted undertones, and he stays in his own space, letting the girls lean against him but making no untoward moves. He serves them with gallant, if cheesy gestures.   
  
But when they get around to Anna, Sho is a fish out of water. She is brash and loud and swings her vodka around gaily as she takes up more space on the couch than any woman Ohno's ever met. She talks like a mobster, with rolling Rs and boy language.  
  
"So whaddaya do to keep your teeth so white, eh?" she says, grabbing at Sho's chin without invitation. She brandishes her teeth at him, and Sho smiles back at her, lacking his normal finesse. He looks like he's trying to calculate the exactly how long he has to wait before he can pull back without being impolite. "Pretty mouth, I betcha kiss great."  
  
"I wish I could tell you, but being as I've never kissed myself, I wouldn't know."  
  
Ohno tries, surreptitiously, like he learned from Nino, to refill their glasses, but both turn to stare at him, Sho with relief and Anna with interest. "You ever kissed 'im, Satoshi-kun?"  
  
Ohno has, but Sho had been rather inflamed at the time, and Ohno isn't sure he could recommend it. Then again, Anna seems like the kind of girl to go for it. "He uses teeth," Ohno comments, and then goes ahead and pours anyway.  
  
Sho splutters.  
  
"Ohoo, is that right?" Anna perks with renewed interest. "Maybe they gave me the right host after all." She closes in on him, a predatory gleam in her eye.  
  
Ohno should feel bad about leaving Sho alone with her when goes to get a new bottle of vodka, but he doesn't.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
The clock is nearing four again, but Ohno's getting used to being awake during the wee hours. It helps that he sleeps until late afternoon most days, but that's how long it takes for him to recuperate after a night at the club. He's never gotten this much exercise in his life, but he can't think of a single thing to complain about.  
  
Except one. Number One—MatsuJun—hasn't touched him once.  
  
He's sitting on the ottoman in the break room, running his hand over his cock as he thinks about it. They've made eye contact a few times on the floor, and it's always MatsuJun that looks away first, his posture aloof and cold, and Ohno is starting to think that MatsuJun just doesn't like him. It could be that he doesn't approve of all this, and Ohno wouldn't blame him—it's probably illegal, what Kumi-cho asks him to do, because he's essentially a sex slave that isn't allowed to say no, not really, but then Ohno wouldn't be here if he didn't like it. Maybe there's some way to tell MatsuJun that, because Ohno isn't afraid to admit that as much as he likes Nino fucking him and Sho's cock juicy and thick on his tongue, there is something specific about MatsuJun that Ohno can't get out of his mind.  
  
He's still thinking about it when Aiba pokes his head in.  
  
"Ohno-kun? Oh, you're alone." He takes a seat next to Ohno a friendly distance away and smiles. "How are you?"  
  
Aiba is so genuine that it doesn't even feel like small talk, which is good, because Ohno is tired of small talk. "Getting used to it," Ohno tells him. He's still touching himself, and Aiba watches with interest. "A little sore though."  
  
"That doesn't really go away," Aiba sympathizes. "I kind of miss it, though. Oh, hey," he says, as if he's had a brilliant idea, "do you mind if I join you?"  
  
Ohno shrugs. If that's what Aiba wants, who is he to say no?  
  
Aiba strips down with as much enthusiasm as he does everything else, shaking his pants off his ankles with several hops and a froggy giggle before he collapses back into the couch to snuggle up to Ohno. "Now if someone comes in they can have double service."  
  
"Hey," Ohno says, struck with a sudden thought, "when you were the junior member, did you ever… you know. Take care of MatsuJun?"   
  
Aiba twists his head around so his cheek presses against Ohno's ear. He's warm and loose, draped against Ohno's side like a human blanket. "MatsuJun's different," Aiba says, picking his words with unusual care. "He's shy."  
  
Ohno snorts before he can stop himself, because how can the top host in a nightclub be  _shy_?  
  
"No, really!" Aiba protests, sitting up and staring earnestly into Ohno's eyes. "He's… he's… he won't make a move on someone unless he knows it's okay, and he's sure they want it. He's a gentleman. Not like Sho is a gentleman, because Sho is really good at playing the part but he can be kind of an asshole when he's horny."   
  
This is true, thinks Ohno. "Did you fuck?" he asks, and he hopes the answer is yes.  
  
Since Ohno seems to believe him, Aiba nuzzles his way back under Ohno's chin. "Once I started talking to him," Aiba says. "He's a really nice guy. I have allergies, and he noticed and started bringing me all these godawful Chinese remedies, but they worked. I kissed him, because it was really sweet, right? And he got all agitated. I thought I'd done something wrong until Nino told me that's the way MatsuJun gets when he's happy, because he sucks at showing it. He doesn't know what to do when people say thank you."  
  
Ohno thinks about that. It takes him a while, and he strokes himself idly as he does. A few minutes later, Aiba's hand joins his, their fingers twining together lazily, and Ohno's cock thickens. "If you want MatsuJun to fuck you, I can tell you how to catch his attention," Aiba says.  
  
"How?" Ohno says breathlessly.  
  
Aiba smiles and moves on to Ohno's balls, squeezing just enough to make Ohno squirm. "MatsuJun likes things wrapped up in pretty packages. We just have to put some ribbon on you, tie you up all nice, so he knows it's okay to unwrap you."  
  
Ohno reaches across to return the favor, pinching the tip of Aiba's cock, which is starting to leak at the tip enough to be slippery. Aiba makes a happy sound and kisses underneath Ohno's jaw. Ohno thinks Aiba must have been a slutty kohai, the type that would spread his legs without being told, and the image of it makes his gut tighten.  
  
"Aiba," Ohno says, "let me fuck you."  
  
"Okay," Aiba murmurs easily into the joints of Ohno's jaw.  
  
Ohno doesn't like moving, so it's Aiba that goes to get the lube. Not that it's far away. Then he prepares himself, letting Ohno watch as he sinks his fingers into himself, one then two than three, all the way past the second knuckle so that his hole stretches longer than it does tall. When he's done, he sits in Ohno's lap, catching Ohno's dick and aiming it inside him. He sits down with a great sigh of contentment.  
  
He doesn't stay still for long. In fact, Ohno is certain that Aiba isn't even still when he sleeps. He must roll around and kick and snort enough to be an absolute terror to share a bed with, but this isn't a bed, and Aiba's inability to stop moving is a blessing instead of a curse. Ohno puts his hands on Aiba's thighs so he can feel the bunch and shift of muscles as Aiba glides up and down, fucking himself on Ohno's cock.  
  
He's beautiful. Even the silly host hairdo can't take away from that, and Ohno is mesmerized by the subtle shift of Aiba's face as he pleasures himself.  
  
But Aiba is impatient, and can't rein himself in, and the pace accelerates quickly. Aiba's cock bobs in awkward counterpoint as he shoves himself down. His skin starts to glow with sweat, enough that he has to lick away the beads of moisture on his upper lip.  
  
He's working so hard that Ohno feels bad for doing nothing, so he takes hold of Aiba's cock. But that's all he does, and it's Aiba's own momentum carries him up into Ohno's hand. Aiba keens, bouncing up and down hard enough that Ohno's breath is forced uncomfortably out of him and the cushions they sit on sway with Aiba's rhythm.  
  
Aiba comes first with a full-body shudder, his body clinging to Ohno's cock. Ohno feels Aiba's dick spasm, but it's not enough warning to keep himself from getting a chest covered with jizz. Aiba bounces determinedly throughout it all, his teeth clenched as orgasm rips through him.  
  
Ohno is still hard when Aiba winds down, sucking air into his lungs. He looks unhappy, which is an expression that doesn't suit him at all. "You didn't come."  
  
Ohno feels a pang, like he's let Aiba down, but he likes the feel of his cock still snugly tucked away inside Aiba's ass. He wouldn't mind just sitting like this for a while, and totally gets Gackt's thing now. "Is that bad?"  
  
"No," Aiba concedes. He shifts his weight slowly, first left, then right, his inner walls pressing against Ohno's cock in new ways that make him grunt. "I just really wanted to make you come. Oh, I know!"  
  
He scrambles off Ohno abruptly, and cold air hits Ohno's cock. But Aiba settles between his knees and opens his mouth and it's not cold at all, anymore.   
  
Aiba sucks on the head of him like he's the most delicious of lollipops. Ohno can see more of Aiba's hair than his face, but what he can see is inspiring. Aiba has cock-sucking lips, and they purse beautifully around Ohno's dick. Aiba even gives attention to Ohno's balls, rolling them playfully as he covers Ohno's cock with spit.  
  
Ohno's orgasm comes on him like an ember slowly building. He can feel it sliding in, his dick tingling with growing heat, his balls tensing and pulling up, and Aiba feels it too. He works faster, with growing urgency, slurping loudly until Ohno stutters and jerks, shoving his cock up into Aiba's throat. Aiba, experienced as he is, drinks down every drop without protest.  
  
When he's done he crawls back up and takes his spot by Ohno's side, throwing an arm over Ohno's chest. Aiba smells like a man, like cologne and hairspray over the natural scent of his own sweat. Maybe one day Ohno will be so used to being around hosts that he won't notice the smell anymore, but he hopes not.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
On the fourth night, Ohno is supposed to be on the floor with MatsuJun, but he isn't, because he and Aiba have a plan.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
It's not comfortable at all. Aiba has spread Ohno's knees apart and tied his ankles to his thighs. His wrists are tied to his ankles, and the ropes are tighter than he thinks is necessary, but Aiba insisted that it wouldn't be authentic of Ohno could wriggle anything loose. There's a bandana tied through his mouth and another one over his eyes, leaving him one hundred percent helpless. At least he's on the ottoman, his single comfort.  
  
If it's not MatsuJun that comes through the door, Ohno doesn't know what he's going to do. Nothing, probably, given the situation he's in. He might not even know if someone else fucks him instead. He can't tell people apart from the way their dicks fit in his ass, after all—maybe in a few more months, but not yet.  
  
But Aiba promised he'd make up some good excuse for MatsuJun to come find him, so Ohno waits. Not like he could do much else.  
  
Time passes with excruciating slowness before finally, finally, he hears the doorknob turn. It sounds abnormally loud. There's a long silence that isn't a silence at all, because Ohno can hear Nino's laugh and the chattering of several dozen drunken girls through the still-open door, but then the door swings shut.  
  
Ohno can tell he's not alone anymore. Whoever it is didn't walk out, they walked in. Ohno, who had gone soft while waiting, feels his dick twitch and start to harden. He's fully exposed, his legs open to show off his penis and balls, his ready hole. Aiba had lubed him up after he got Ohno all tied, despite Ohno's protests—which were really just muffled, incomprehensible words thanks to the gag—because, he claimed, he couldn't resist, and if he couldn't fuck Ohno, at least he could finger him.  
  
Footsteps move closer, dulled by the carpet underfoot, until Ohno senses whoever it is over him. He feels the eyes, and isn't embarrassed at all the way his dick stands up eagerly.  
  
"So, this is what Aiba-chan meant." Ohno realizes with a jolt that he's never heard MatsuJun speak before. His voice is more nasal than Ohno had imagined, halfway to husky and wholly confident in a way that makes gooseflesh stand up on Ohno's arms. "He said he left me a present. That's you, correct?"  
  
Ohno works his tongue against the back of the gag, trying to say yes, but even without words the jut of his cock is enough.  
  
MatsuJun's touch is light as a ghost's. He starts at Ohno's throat, his nails dragging over Ohno's Adam's apple, over his collarbone, towards his nipple, at a snail's pace. "Did you ask him to do this, Ohno-san? Did you want this?"  
  
Ohno nods jerkily, trying to lift his body against MatsuJun's hand.  
  
MatsuJun lets out a puff of air, like he'd been holding his breath, and without warning he twists hard at Ohno's nipple and all bets are off. Ohno squeals, his back curving and his head pressing back into the cushions.  
  
Aiba had warned him that MatsuJun had a sadistic side, but the fantasies that information inspired didn't prepar him for the reality. MatsuJun pokes and prods all over Ohno's body, finding every weak spot. Once he discovers that Ohno has sensitive feet, he tickles, and Ohno lurches and shouts garbled words through his gag, cursing the bonds that keep him ruthlessly in place. MatsuJun digs his nails into the insides of Ohno's thighs, leaving them inflamed, and he pins Ohno's nipples with evil metal clips that Ohno knows weren't part of Aiba's set up procedure, so he can only wonder where they came from.   
  
"Did you know," MatsuJun starts, "your cock is begging for attention? I'm staring at it right now. It's weeping." He pauses, his words weighted. "What should I do about that, hm?"  
  
_Fuck me_ , Ohno tries to say, but it comes out as garbled as everything else.  
  
"What was that?" MatsuJun says.  
  
Ohno squirms, trying to thrust his cock up into the air to get what he wants instead, but all he can manage is an awkward shimmy. The ropes cut into his skin and the clips on his nipples jiggle painfully, but he doesn't give up, because he wants to show MatsuJun that he is ready for anything.  
  
Still, he's unprepared for the sting of MatsuJun's hand as it slaps his face, and he stills in shock. "God, you're a little slut," MatsuJun says, voice thick with something Ohno thinks might be awe. "You can't be fucking serious."  
  
But Ohno is deadly serious, and MatsuJun has only stiffened his resolve. He throws his head back as far as he can to expose his throat and opens his legs so wide his hips and back threaten to cramp.  
  
"Fuck," MatsuJun says, and Ohno definitely hears a hitch in his voice.  
  
The tide turns after that.  
  
MatsuJun finds each one of Ohno's deep, dark secrets and drags it to the surface, carefully cruel, pushing Ohno one step farther than he thought he could go until he is sobbing, his blindfold wet with tears, because the truth is he has always wanted this and always been afraid to find it. He has to suck wet breaths through his gag because his nose is filled with snot, and it's humiliating in all the ways he could have ever hoped for. And when Ohno has been broken down to the smallest, most insignificant pieces, that is when MatsuJun fucks him, columning into Ohno's ass while pushing both his knees out to a 180 degree angle.  
  
Ohno is so sensitized that the brush of MatsuJun's shirt against his cock makes him want to ejaculate, and he struggles to hold on until MatsuJun has shot him full of come. He knows it happens when MatsuJun buries himself with one vicious, final thrust, and Ohno feels the spasms of MatsuJun's dick inside him.  
  
When MatsuJun pulls out, Ohno whines. Every single muscle of his body aches, but the worst is his cock.  
  
Then MatsuJun takes off the blindfold, and Ohno blinks as light assaults his eyes. When the gag comes off, saliva clings to it in spindly ropes. Ohno stretches his jaw and licks at his swollen lips. MatsuJun looks down at him, unsmiling but eyes soft, and Ohno's breath catches in his throat. This is the first time their eyes have met and MatsuJun hasn't looked away.  
  
"Say my name," MatsuJun says, his voice raspy low, "when I make you come."  
  
Ohno is only too happy to follow orders, and when MatsuJun's hand tightens around his cock, he shouts loud enough to be heard through the walls.  
  


:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:^:

  
  
After MatsuJun chases Nino and Sho back out onto the floor, telling them it is none of their business, thank you, go the fuck away, he unties Ohno, his hands considerate where before they had been cruel. Ohno melts into a little puddle, his arms and legs worse than jelly, and it takes MatsuJun's strong shoulder under his arm to get him back to the couch. He has no doubt that every ache will turn itself into a pretty blue bruise by tomorrow.  
  
MatsuJun fusses, his brows drawn together in a frown as he drags a cool cloth over Ohno's skin and looks for marks. "Where does it hurt?" he says.  
  
"Everywhere," Ohno tells him. His voice is like gravel, but he's smiling. "I wanted it that way, though."  
  
MatsuJun glances at him from under his brows, and Ohno sees the shyness that Aiba was talking about, just a flash of it before the coolness slams back down. "You're crazy. You had no idea what I could do to you."  
  
Ohno tries to shrug but it smarts, and he winces instead. "No, but I know I wanted you to do it. Don't worry so much." He sighs and closes his eyes, relishing the slow swipe of the cloth that MatsuJun is running over his stomach, down between his legs. He feels satisfied down to his soul, and safe in MatsuJun's capable hands, and that, plus the fatigue, is what makes him say what he says next, because it's not the kind of thing he would normally feel comfortable with. "I've been watching you. Wanted you, way back when I first saw your photo outside. But you never looked at me, and I thought…"  
  
There's a beat of silence, not awkward, just quiet, before MatsuJun answers. "I was watching you too."  
  
Surprised, Ohno opens his eyes and finds MatsuJun smiling at him, and Ohno's heart does a great flip-flop in his chest, because MatsuJun might be pretty when he's serious and glowering, but he's dangerously gorgeous when he smiles. "Really?"  
  
"Well, you have really cute bangs," MatsuJun says.  
  
Ohno blinks.  
  
"And you're adorable. Are you sure you're really thirty?" There's a playful gleam to MatsuJun's eyes.  
  
"…Thirty one," Ohno says, because he can't think of anything else to say, even though he's pretty sure MatsuJun is teasing him.  
  
"That's right," MatsuJun says indulgently. "An old man." He finishes with the cloth and lays it aside after folding it into perfect squares, then puts his arm around Ohno, pulling him in so Ohno can lean against his chest. Ohno can feel the beat of MatsuJun's heart under his hand, out of rhythm with his own noisy pulse. It lulls him, and sleep tugs at the corners of his consciousness.  
  
"If Kumi-cho recruits someone new," he hears himself say fuzzily, "will you still fuck me? Like that?" It's hard to keep his eyes open, so he stops trying.  
  
"You couldn't stop me," MatsuJun says, barely a whisper in Ohno's ear, and the promise follows Ohno as he slips away into dreams.


End file.
